


we walk around pretending we're all grown up

by harlequindream



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequindream/pseuds/harlequindream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These things aren’t planned out. You can’t predict them. You don’t see them coming. They hit you from behind, far past the corner of your eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It probably goes without saying, but this in an AU. And I hate using capitals for my fic titles.

There was never a moment, not one in my entire life, when I ever felt the urge to forget everything I know and run away. To run off into the sunset and leave it all behind. I’ve never seen a sunset that ever gave me that feeling. Nothing so beautiful, or threatening, could ever cause me to do such a horrible thing. Not when I was alone, not when I got married, and especially not after I had my child. My life has been planned out and put together, just as it should be. Nothing would come between that. There was no enigmatic entity that would cause me to look at my husband any differently. Or, at least, none that had been planned.

But isn’t that always the way? These things aren’t planned out. You can’t predict them. You don’t see them coming. They hit you from behind, far past the corner of your eye.

 

\

 

“Come back to bed, please. I beg of you,” Twig calls to me. There is no way in hell that I am going back to bed. I’m probably going to miss my train already considering I lured him into joining me in the shower an hour ago.

“I don’t have time,” I say as I lean forward to the mirror to concentrate on not sticking the eyeliner into my eyeball.

“You made time before,” he says with a seductive tone. That man, as irresistible as he is, has no sense of timing whatsoever.

“Exactly. I made time before, therefore I don’t have any time left to give you.” I apply my mascara, run my fingers through the hair quickly and walk back into the bedroom. My small day bag is packed and sitting beside the door, my jacket resting over it.

“They won’t mind if you’re late, you know.”

“But my train will, as will I. I have to leave now otherwise I won’t get there until halfway through lunch and no one will ever forgive me. Especially not mum.”

My parents. It’s their 40th anniversary and I’ve been forced to take a two hour train ride back to the town I grew up in, just to have a lunch that will last three hours, and then come back home so I can see my daughter in her school play. No rest for the wicked, I guess.

“I can still take you to the train station,” my husband sighs and rolls off the bed, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. It’s enticing, to jump back into bed and waste another half hour with him. It’s always been that way. We can never keep our hands off of each other. Even in the theatre where we met. There are still places in that building that give me shivers just walking near. I’ve never loved anyone like him, and sometimes I feel incomplete when he isn’t close to me. He, and my daughter, are my absolute everything.

“I’ve already called the taxi,” and as it happens a car horn out the front of our house goes off at that moment. “I’ve got to go.”

Twig steps to me and wraps his arms around me. I bury my face in his chest and breathe in. I won’t be able to smell that until I get home tonight, and he’s so intoxicating that I need a fix before I leave. I take my bag and walk down the hall to Erin’s room. She’s getting ready for school and I give her a quick kiss on her head before I leave. Telling her the usual, “be good for dad” thing. And as I climb into the back seat of the cab my phone already goes off, alerting me that I have a message.

Of course it’s from him. _Love you, miss you. xx_

My heart swells as I grin, and the driver pulls away from the curb.

 

\

 

The lunch goes ahead smoothly, no one causing a fuss, which is probably because when it’s a party for my parents the rest of our family keeps their mouth shut otherwise my mum will be a mess of tears, complaining about how we can’t all be civil for long enough to celebrate something nice. But none of that occurs, because apparently today we can be civil enough to get through this lunch.

My little cousins tells me all about university and it almost makes me wish I had gone to study literature instead of going to drama school. _Almost,_ because I don’t find much else interesting enough except for acting.

As soon as my watch says it’s three, I make my rounds and say goodbye to everyone. All my aunts and uncles tell me how much they’re looking forward to my next film, whenever that may be; I’m on a hiatus currently. My mum kisses my cheek and gives her love to Twig and Erin, and my dad hugs me, telling me that he misses me. Which almost reduces me to tears because I have been very neglectful about coming up to see them lately. I just don’t have the time, even with how much I am _not_ working. I still miss my parents more than I ever thought I would. So I promise them I’ll come back soon with Twig and Erin and we’ll stay for a few days.

I leave with my chin up, shoulders back, and not a tear in my eye. I grab my bag, wave goodbye to the room and make my way back to the train station. Two hours on the train, to have a three hour lunch and two hours back. It doesn't really seem worth it, but at least I won't get called an ungrateful daughter any time soon. Which is something.

Once I've sat into my designated seat, an older woman takes the place next to me. She looks to me just as I look to her, I smile briefly before gazing out the window to look at the platform. There are so many people rushing to get to their train. They remind me of Twig and his lack of perfect timing. It's only been a few hours and I miss him. He shouldn't still have this effect on me, but he does. I long for being wrapped in his embrace. And for his kisses on my neck.

"Oh," the woman interrupts my thoughts. "I've just realized who you are." I turn back to her and raise my eyebrows.

"I just saw a film of yours last week."

"Really?" I smile, like I always do when people say this to me.

"You were very good, I must say. I'm not one for staying awake during movies anymore but I couldn't shut my eyes."

"That's kind of you to say," I say. Like I always do.

"Carmen," she extends her hand and I take it out of politeness.

"Catherine."

"What brings you out here? Filming, perhaps?"

I wish. "No, my parents' anniversary. I came up for a celebratory lunch."

"Lovely! How many years were they celebrating?"

"Forty," I nod my head and look down to my lap. I look to my own ring and turn it around my finger. I can only hope I get to forty years.

"Oh, a big anniversary."

"Yeah."

"I never made it past six years. With either of my husbands."

Somehow, this woman telling me about her life doesn't make me want to tell her some excuse about being tired and ignoring her for the rest of the trip. I can't tell why, but she's nice. Nicer than most people I've had to sat next to on a trip.

"Married twice?"

"Indeed. They just weren't right for me. I wish I had figured that out before I signed any papers." I laugh softly and shake my head.

"I can't say I've ever second guessed my husband."

"How long have you been married?"

"Nine years." And it's been the best nine years of my life. I can't think of it ever being better than this, if I'm honest.

"Wonderful," this woman says. She looks out in front of her and then brings her gaze back to me. "And you know it's right, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You have that look about you. You're thinking of him now, aren't you?" Am I that obvious?

"I'm never not thinking about him. He's everything to me."

Carmen hums, "I don't think I ever had that with either of my husbands."

This makes me curious of her. How could she marry someone if she doesn't think about them so much? "Then why would you stand up in front of people and vow to be with them for the rest of your life?" That sounded harsh, I really didn't mean to be. Twig tells me I say what I think too much, which he loves, but it doesn't always benefit me. I have to stop doing it. Though this woman just laughs and sighs, so clearly she's not bothered by what I said.

"I'd rather sit at home and wish I hadn't, then ever wish I had."

It's so poignant and wise. I've never thought of anything like that before. I _have_ sat at home wishing I had done something. And it feels awful.

"I should consider doing that some time."

A minute goes by in silence. And since I don't particularly feel like spending the next two hours in silence I ask her, "What brings you out here then? Or, what is taking you to the city?"

"My granddaughter. She has an event at her school tonight and my daughter asked if I would like to come down and see her. My son is going as well, so I figured I'd spend the time with my kids. They don't come see me nearly enough."

"That's what my mother tells me," and we laugh together.

The rest of the way back into London is nice and easy. Carmen and I talk almost the entire trip back. This woman is so lovely and kind and has the best stories. She tells me about her kids and her granddaughter. I tell her about Erin and Twig. I've almost forgotten what it's like to have a normal conversation with a stranger these days. Everyone I meet tries to tell me they know all about my life and impress me with that. It's not impressive, at all. It's a little invasive, and not appreciated.

Carmen and I walk together out of the terminal and head towards the exit.

"My son is meant to be picking me up. He's probably late. He usually is."

I realize I haven't checked my phone to see if Twig can come get me. I search for it in the bottom of my bag and once I see that he's been held back at work I know I have to get a taxi out to Erin's school.

"I'll wait with you, if you like. I have to grab a cab anyway so I don't mind."

"It's okay dear, you don't have to do that."

Just as I'm about to tell her I really don't mind some man calls out for his mother and Carmen turns in that direction.

"Mum, hey!" A tall, skinny man pushes through a small crowd of people, waving his hand in the air.

"Oh, there he is." Carmen smiles and waves back.

The guy jogs towards his mother and wraps his arms around her.

"Sorry, I'm probably so late and I didn't mean to be but Sarah wouldn't let me borrow her car so I had to take a cab and I'm so sorry," he blurts. And then he looks to me.

I don't know why, but words fail me as I look into his eyes. I'm vaguely aware of my mouth dropping open slightly, and that Carmen is talking, probably.

This man, he has eyes as dark as night, and I can't bring myself to look away.

"Catherine?" That is most probably Carmen trying to catch my attention, and I snap out of whatever just took over me and I smile to her.

"Sorry, off with the fairies," I murmur.

"That's alright. I was just saying this is David, my son."

"Nice to meet you," he says softly and reaches out his hand. I take it with my own, and suppress a gasp. His hand is warm and soft and matches his eyes incredibly well.

"Yes, nice to meet you too."

"You're, um, that actress. Aren't you?" He asks me with genuine interest, not like he already knows. It's as refreshing as his mother was when she asked about me.

"Yeah, I am. Probably. You could be thinking of anyone," I say.

"I don't know," he drags out. "There are only so many actresses with hair as red and beautiful as yours." Damn him, I can feel my cheeks heating up already.

Carmen clears her throat awkwardly beside us. "Well, I wish we had time to grab coffee together, but David and I must be off. We don't want to be late, do we?"

"No, mum," he says but never breaking eye contact with me. How long has it been since I've blinked? I don't remember. I don't even remember seeing him blink.

"That's alright. I've got to dash off myself." My phone vibrates in my hand and it shocks me enough to look down. It's Twig again. "It was so nice to meet you, Carmen. And to chat with you."

"Likewise."

"I hope we meet each other some other time," I tell her, in all honesty.

"Well, it's a small world."

"That it is," David says. And he actually smirks at me. I've really got to get out of here.

"Alright, goodbye then." I give them both a small wave and walk away, not looking back at all. But if I happen to turn around a little when I walk out of the doors to the street and see him, _them, see them,_ out of the corner of my eye, it doesn't really count. Does it? He's still smirking at me though.

I walk swiftly to the taxi bay and wait for another one to pull up. I give Twig a quick call but it rings out and I only get his voicemail.

"Hey, it's me. I'll just take a taxi to the school now. So I'll meet you there. Love you."

I drop my phone back into my bag and continue to wait for a taxi. It isn't long and three show up one after the other. I walk towards the first one and just before I go to get into it I glance up and see Carmen, with David, getting into the cab behind mine. I catch his eyes once again. And once again I can't bear to look away. He smiles, and I smile back. He opens his mouth as if to say something but before I can hear whatever it is there's a loud smack and a thud and then tyres screeching to a stop on the road. David looks down to where the noise came from and I follow suit. There's a man, lying on the ground, blood stains on his white shirt. And blood pooling around his head.

I can't hear anything clearly, everything sounds like it's coming from another room. Another room with the door closed. I look to the left of the man on the ground and see a white van, with small speckles of blood covering about a meter wide radius near the front of it. I can't look away. I can't even think clearly. All I see is the white of the van, the small dots of red, the man on the ground. _I can’t even see his face_. It's all rushing and I stop breathing. Someone is screaming, "he's dead! He's dead!"

I stop breathing until I feel a hand on my arm and I look to the new pressure on my skin. I look from this hand, to the arm and up to the face of who this is. Of course, it's David. He looks shocked. He must be as stunned as I am. From the corner of my eye I see his free hand reach up to my face. I'm frozen, paralyzed. I don't know what's happening. His hand makes a fist but his thumb sticks out and David drags it over my cheekbone. I look to his thumb and there's a small smear of blood on the tip.

I don't say anything, but neither does he. A couple minutes later his mother calls for him, and the hand still tightly gripped onto my arm drops to his side. He just turns and walks back.

I remember the dark brown of his hair, the grey of his jacket, and the black of his jeans. Then I turn and walk away. I can't stay. I have to leave. Someone calls for me, I think. It could be anyone, half the people in this country know my name, but I ignore whoever it is and just walk. I make my way to a side street and manage to flag down a cab there, giving the directions to my daughters school. And I shutdown my mind. Trying to block out the past half hour. It doesn't really work. I end up wiping my tears away the entire ride to my family.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted this almost immediately after I wrote it so if there are mistakes... Ooops.

When I get to Erin's school I call Twig to see where he is. Which is already inside, probably talking to some of the teachers. He's always doing that. We don't interact with the other parents a lot, which doesn't seem friendly, but they usually aren't the friendly kind anyhow. Don't get me wrong; I _try_ , but I don't usually have the time or patience.

I walk past all the other parents outside and make my way to the auditorium. I step inside and look around frantically. I need to be beside him. I need to hug him, I need to feel him next to me and know he isn't going anywhere in the blink of an eye. I finally spot him on the left side of the room beside the stage, and I make a beeline for him.

"Hi," I sigh and grab hold of his hand, pressing into his side.

"Hey. You remember Mr Rafferty, Catherine?"

"Yes, hello. Good to see you again. But um, Twig," he looks down to me. "Can I pull you away for a minute?" He nods, not saying a word. And I'm grateful.

He says a quick goodbye to Erin's teacher and I pull him into the corner of the room, far away from anyone else. And I hold onto him. I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer to me.

"Hey, what's happened?" I'm really not ready to tell him. I can't think about it, at all. I shake my head against his chest and instead of asking further questions he just kisses the top of my head and holds me close. It's what I need.

Ten minutes later Mr Rafferty is up on the stage and calling everyone to take a seat. Twig and I sit a few rows back from the front, near the end. I don't want to be situated between anyone who will rave about their child when all they are doing is standing at the back of the stage dressed as a tree. I especially don't need anyone asking, "oh, is Erin following in her mother's footsteps?" Because no, she isn't. It's a school play. It's mandatory. I have no sway over my daughter's aspirations.

So I sit between Twig and another father who looks like he was made to cancel an appointment to come tonight, which means he will not speak to me. I lean my head on Twig's shoulder the entire length of this play, and I grip his hand tightly. He doesn't let go, even though our hands get sweaty fifteen minutes in. I smile and cheer when Erin's had her part and she somehow spots me, I think, because she smiles when I look into her eyes. This is how it should be; a normal night, seeing my daughter in her school play, but I still have those awful sounds ringing in the back of my ears.

As soon as the lights come back on I tell my husband I just want to go home and sleep. He knows something is wrong, yet I refuse to tell him. I want to forget. I don't want to hear that thud again, or the tyres screeching, that smell of burning rubber and _blood_ , yet I can't get it out of my head. That man is dead. And I do not want to talk about it. Not even with Twig. Especially not the night we've had to be in public, at our daughter's school play. So maybe, I reason, I should just tell him tomorrow if I feel any better about it. Which is doubtful. Even thinking about it now makes me realize I still have tears just waiting to fall from my eyes. Twig must see that because he tells me he'll go get Erin and meet me at the car. He goes off behind the stage and I make my way outside.

As I walk down the small steps of the auditorium someone bumps into me, or I bump into them. I'm not sure, but it doesn't really matter. I turn around to say sorry but as I look up... It's him. _Why is it him?_

We stand there for maybe one, two minutes. I can't stop looking at him. All I can see are those dark eyes, and all I can hear is that _thud_. It's insane. Why aren't we speaking? Why does he keep looking at me?

"Oh, it's you," he breaks the silence first, and smiles. He shouldn't do that. Not when I can't keep my eyes off him. And I don't even have a reason _why._

"Yes, me." Does he remember my name? We only met a few hours ago. He couldn't possibly have held onto what my name is. A stranger. Someone he was probably never meant to meet again... But here we are, apparently. And I remember _his_ name.

"Didn't expect to see you here, David," I say. Mostly to let him know I haven't forgotten.

"And I never thought I'd see you here, Catherine." Oh god, he does remember my name. He smirks at me, and I quickly look down to my feet. I can't look at him any longer. It's... Intoxicating. It's frightening.

"What brings you here then? Not to sound rude, but you don't seem like the father-type," I venture.

"My niece, actually. She was in that play. That's why my mum came down. We're going for dinner now."

"Oh, lovely." Do I tell him about my daughter? He is practically a stranger. But for some unfathomable reason, I feel like I've known David my entire life. I just can't explain it...

"Do you have kids?" He pauses. "In the play, I mean. Or just at this school?"

"Yeah," I slip. "My daughter."

"Right..."

"David!" Somebody calls for him and he looks past me, into the building. I turn around to see who it is, and there's a brown haired girl standing with a young girl and Carmen, his mother.

"Small world."

"Hmm?" I spin back around, and he's already staring at me.

"We're meeting for the second time in one day. Told you it was a small world."

"Oh... I suppose you're right."

We fall silent again, but it's not awkward. I just stare into his eyes again. They're a deep hazel, now that I really take a look. Beautiful, really. Brown eyes are just normal. Twig has brown eyes. But I've never seen so much in his eyes... God, that is scary.

"I, um... I should, uh," I stutter, stupidly. "My husband is waiting at the car."

"Oh, yeah, okay." He steps aside on the steps to let me pass him, and as I do he grabs my wrist, holding me back. His hand is so warm. It feels like a burn against my cold skin. It feels right to have his hand on me. I need to run away, I _have_ to flee. This just isn't _right..._

"Today was..." he begins and I nod. I know what today was. I'm trying so desperately hard to forget. And this is not helping.

"He died," David continues.

"I know. I just... I can't stop thinking about the sound. When that van hit him."

"And that smell."

"Exactly. I swear, if I keep looking to my left, in the corner of my eye I can still see it happening," I murmur. At least he gets it.

"You always hear about these things happening-

"But you never actually experience them. I get it. One day you're here, just walking down the street or getting into a car and-

"The next you don't feel anything at all. Because you're not _here._ "

"Yeah..." He still has his hand wrapped around my wrist. His grip is soft, it's almost calming. I like it.

"I don't think he felt it." I raise my eyebrows, I can't think why he'd say something like that.

"What?"

"It happened without him realizing. I think it was so instantaneous that he wouldn't have felt it happen," he explains.

"I guess... That's almost a relief."

Silence, yet again. And it's not overwhelming. It's just so normal. Why do I feel this way? He, David, is so... _Something_.

"David! We have to go!" That same woman again calls for him. I don't know how long I've been standing here, but I feel him let go of my wrist. It's all I feel; the cold air strangle my wrist. It travels up my spine and I shiver, then cross my arms against me waist.

"Maybe I'll see you around, Catherine."

I have no other response than, "Yeah. Maybe you will." I brush against his shoulder as I leave and I feel lightheaded. Why, why, _why._ What is it about him that I feel such an attachment to? I've only just met him, and He's incredible. I know that much.

\

As Twig and I get home I walk straight to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. Maybe some tea will help calm me down. I _hope_ it will calm me down. Twig starts fixing something up for dinner. He grabs out all the ingredients for pancakes, of all things. And Erin cheers because she loves pancakes for dinner, and with how well she did tonight she really deserves them.

I, however, don't have an appetite. "I'm just going to go to bed," I mumble to Twig as I pick up my mug of tea.

"You sure? We're doing pancakes?" He smiles, and it's ever so sweet and reassuring.

"Mmm, yeah. I just, need to shake off this feeling."

"You never told me what was wrong. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" he asks tentatively.

"Maybe tomorrow," I utter. He nods in response and I lean up to kiss his cheek. I say goodnight to my daughter, telling her I'll see her in the morning. It'll be Saturday tomorrow. Maybe it'd be nice if I took her out to the park or something. Maybe that'll take my mind off things.

I make my way upstairs and to my bedroom. I don't bother turning the lights on. I'm just so tired, and don't want to focus on anything, ever again. It's been such a long day.

I place my mug on the bedside table, but as I strip off my clothes and climb into bed it's pretty much forgotten, because I fall asleep almost as soon as I shut my eyes.

\

My dreams feel haunted. It's as though the sun has disappeared from the universe and the days are just as dark as the nights. Everything happens much too fast around me and it's all blurred. Moments of dark red, grey, and black go past but I can't focus on them long enough. Not until I see a figure standing twenty feet away from me. It's the only thing that isn't moving, and I feel as though it grounds me. Stops my head from spinning and making me feel dizzy. The person's eyes, I know them. I've seen them before. But I can't place who it is. The chaos around me is still distracting, in the corner of my eye I still see it all. And as this person steps closer I feel smaller; smaller in my head mostly. He walks slowly and I feel like I can't breathe.  
But just before he gets close enough so I could identify him, I wake up.

It's bright, too bright. And I haven't opened my eyes yet. I feel Twig's arm wrapped around me and for a minute I think it must have been him in my dream. His eyes are brown, but these in my dream were different. They're darker. Then I realize they're David.  
Great. I'm dreaming about handsome strangers.

I shuffle closer to Twig as I focus on my breathing, as I focus on him. He's the one in my bed, he's the one who is holding me and keeping me warm, he's the one I married.

I don't know how long I'm lying there for but at a certain point Twig starts rousing next to me. He nuzzles into my neck, which feels heavenly, and I stifle a soft laugh.

"Morning, you," I croak out. He grumbles something incoherent. He's not much of a morning person, even on the best days.

"I was thinking about going to the park, with Erin," I tell him. He answers with another grumble. An agreement? Who knows. I flip over to face him and kiss him quickly.

"I'm getting up now."

"No," he groans. "Stay." His grip around my waist tightens and yeah, I feel like staying in bed with him all day. All week if I had my way, but that's not healthy. I have to get up now, otherwise I'll think too much about yesterday and I'll probably burst into tears again.

"Nope, I'm going to get Erin out of bed. Take your time though," I pull away from him and get out of bed. "We'll have breakfast without you."

"I'm getting up, I am," he grumbles. And does not move an inch. I just laugh and go the closet. I put fresh clothes on, something entirely different to what I wore yesterday. I choose jeans over a skirt, and a loose t-shirt over the long sleeved blouse I wore. I'm probably not going to wear either of those items for quite a while.

\

Halfway through breakfast Twig joins us and pours himself a cup of coffee, also offering me one. I nod and as he places it on the table beside my plate the phone rings.

"Who would call this early on a Saturday?"

"I wouldn't know," I say and walk to the phone. Caller ID tells me it's my friend Matt.

"Good morning, you," I greet. I step out of the kitchen and walk to the living room.

"Hey, Catherine. How are you?"

"Fine, and you?"

"Good, good," he pauses. "Hey, I have a favour to ask you." Well that's our small talk over then.

"What kind of favour?" I ask, hesitantly.

"Come to a party tonight?"

"Oh, Matt. I'm not sure if-

"Please!" he interrupts. "It's not for me, it's for Sophie." His younger sister. Whom I have no real connection with, to be honest.

"Why are you asking me to a party of Sophie's?"

"She's engaged."

"She what? I didn't know she was with anyone."

"Apparently they haven't been together long. I only found out about him about, oh... An hour ago. Mum called me." In all the years I've known Matt, and Sophie, she's always been like this. On the wilder side of life. Always falling too fast and hard for the guy she had met a couple weeks beforehand. She's an extreme optimist, really. She finds the good in everyone and doesn't bother looking for the bad at all. She only discovers that part when she's deep in love.

"I'm surprised, but also not. Who is this guy?"

"I don't even know his name. She's meant to be coming here to mum and dad's soon to set up a party."

"As in an engagement party?"

"Yeah. She wants the big backyard for space. But Catherine, please. Come to this thing to save me from possibly killing my sister," Matt says seriously, and I laugh in return.

"Since I don't have plan, I'll come. Is it alright if I bring Twig and Erin though?"

"The more the merrier! There'll be other kids as far as I know so Erin won't be bored at least."

"Alright then. So what time?"

"Say seven? Here at my parents. You know where that is."

"Sure do," I wait a few seconds before speaking and Matt only hums in the meantime. "The past two days have been so strange for me," I say casually, I don't expect much of a response.

"Why? What happened yesterday?" Do I tell him? Or at least a part of it? Except then, would I tell him about the man dying five feet away from me part? Or the David part? I shouldn't tell him about either. That wouldn't be good. And still, thinking about telling someone makes me feel sick already so I'm certain I am _not_ ready to discuss any of it.

"Oh, nothing really," I lie. "Just a weird couple of days."

"Okay..." He does not sound convinced at all.

"Alright anyway, I'm in the middle of breakfast. I'll see you tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure. Also, presents are probably expected. Soph will have a fit if she has no gifts."

"Got it," I laugh. "Alright, see you."

"Yeah, bye!"

I hang up and make my way back to Twig and Erin. Twig lifts his head up as I come back in the room, raising his eyebrows.

"Just Matt. We're all invited to a party tonight."

"A party?" Erin asks, mouth full of toast.

"Yep, all three of us," I smile. She jumps about in her seat a bit. She doesn't get included in the adult parties a lot.

"What for?" Twig asks.

"Sophie is engaged." He says nothing, just stares at me. "I know, I know, but she's having an engagement party I guess. And Matt invited us all, and I don't really want to leave him stranded."

"That's nice of you, love," he says reassuringly and takes a sip of coffee. "What time are we expected?"

"We're going?" Erin interrupts.

"We sure are, darling." She jumps out of her chair and runs to her room, claiming she needs to find something pretty enough for a big girl party.

"Matt said seven. And we need to get a gift." Twig sighs, but nods his head anyway.

So yes, looks like we're going to a party. And for some reason I can't find out to see who Sophie's new bloke is. Because if he's better than the last guy, (a very successful music producer with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a brain to match his outstanding looks) then I will find someone to marry them right there at the party. If he's worse, then I will sit in a corner of the room with Matt and make fun of him. Either way I think I'll be having fun at this party tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning: this chapter has a little bit of smut at the end. I'm not changing th rating, because it's not super graphic. You can skip it if it bothers you.

When the three of us arrive to the party I notice there are already quite a few cars parked out the front of the house already. Granted we're only twenty minutes later than I told Matt we'd be here by. That means we're practically early by Twig's standards. He just couldn't decide what colour shirt to wear. Erin and I kept saying the blue one, and fifteen minutes later he decided on white. I hate being late to parties. Or events in general. So as soon as we park I'm rushing Twig and Erin out the car.

"It's alright Catherine, we're only a little bit late," Twig tells me with a sigh and shuts his door behind him, Sophie's present in his hands. I went out last minute and got her a set of photo frames.

"I'm just excited," I lie with a shrug of my shoulders.

"Mum hates being late," Erin says offhandedly as I take her hand and walk up the small stone pathway to the front door.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Twig smiles at me. And I forgive him, because I love it when he smiles at me like he is now. All big and toothy, with hints of regret and cheekiness in his eyes.

I don't bother knocking on the door, I just open it and walk in. I don't think Matt or his parents would mind. Besides, there are thirty or more people here. I doubt they would have heard me knock in the first place.

We walk through the hall and into the open kitchen. I spot Matt immediately. He must see me too because he rushes over rather quickly.

"Catherine! I started to think you had bailed on me and left me stranded here with all of Sophie's friends," he laughs awkwardly. To which I smile in return. I'll calm him down, I'm sure.

"Well we showed up. Only a little bit late," I sneer and feel an elbow dig into my waist. Yes, it is Twig's fault. I will blame him.

"Yeah, hey, Twig." The men shake hands. "And hello to you, Erin! You've gotten a lot taller since I last saw you." Matt holds out his hand for her to take it.

"I didn't see you that long ago," she says skeptically.

"And boy, have you grown since then!" Matt then picks Erin up, steps back a little and spins her around. Erin squeals and giggles until Matt puts her back down. She loves it when he does that. And I love it too, Matt's the best best-friend I could have asked for.

"There's some other kids outside if you want to go play," Matt offers. Erin looks at me first and as soon as I nod yes she runs outside.

"So who is this lucky guy Sophie managed to scoop up?" Twig asks, just before I was about to. Matt has a look around the room, turning for a minute or so.

"He must be outside. I'll point him out when I see him," he says. "But let me tell you about him and how he and Soph met, because it's ridiculous."

"I'm going to find a drink while you do that," Twig says quickly. "You guys want anything?" The two of us shake our heads and Matt takes me to the side of the room, leaving Twig standing there alone.

"Okay, tell me everything!"

"Right," Matt begins. "I'll start with this: they met _two months ago_."

"No way!" I yell, just a little too loud. I get some looks. "Two months? You can't possibly get to know anyone in two months!"

"That's what I've been saying. I mean, you know how she is when she thinks she's in love."

"Obsessive," we say at the same time. That's just Sophie.

"Exactly," he continues. "And this guy is..."

"What?"

"He's _artistic_."

"Why do you say it like that?" I laugh. That sounds like he's saying this guy is gay or something.

"I don't mean like that," he says. Apparently being able to read my mind. "He's just artsy. You know, those broody types that will go with the next super cheerful girl they meet."

"Yes, I've heard of these types," I say menacingly. Mostly taking the piss out of Matt.

"I mean it!" he laughs, then takes another look around the room. "Oh wait, I think that's him by the door. Oh shit, I think he saw me looking at him. He knows I'm talking about him."

"Matt, stop. Which one is it?" I look over where Matt just said, and I feel like I'm falling off a cliff my stomach drops so fast.

"It's him," I hear Matt vaguely say. "His name is David."

And he's looking directly at me.

\

I avoid him like the plague all night. I can feel his eyes on me at various time but I don't give in to looking over at him. I try to stick beside Twig or Matt all night. When it hits about 9.30 I can't find either of them, so I make my way to the bathroom and linger for what feels like an hour but is more like ten minutes. When I come back out people have gathered in the kitchen, and something's about to happen. Sophie and David are standing in front of everyone, with Sophie and Matt's dad standing next to them. It must be speeches. Everyone has a drink in their hand.

I make my way to the back of the small crowd and linger by the doorway to the backyard, leaning against it. As Sophie's father starts speaking Twig finds his way next to me, Erin in his arms.

"We should head off," he whispers in my ear.

"It's speeches," I protest.

"Exactly. Perfect time to get away. Come on, she's tired," he says as Erin drops her head on his shoulder.

"I like speeches," I tell him. I glance to Erin and she's practically falling asleep. I look in front of me and David has spotted me. He's looking directly at me, again. Twig seems oblivious.

"You take her home then, I'll get a cab home," I mumble. Twig agrees and kisses my cheek. "Goodnight, my little girl." I kiss Erin on her forehead and watch as they make their way out. I stare back at David. His gaze has not moved; it's fixed on me.

Throughout everybody speaking, including Matt, I try to pay attention but it's difficult. I can't clearly hear the vague details of how David and Sophie came to be. Half of the things I do hear don't sound real. I wouldn't be surprised if Sophie told them some untrue stories. I wouldn't blame her. Engaged after two months is worrying, to say the least.

Ten minutes after the last speech, the lights in the kitchen go off and the music gets louder. All of Sophie's young friends start to dance. And through the crowd I spot David walking towards me. I'm in the hall area. There's nowhere to go except outside, and that would just seem too rude. So I know I just have to get through whatever he's going to say.

"Hey," he smirks as he reaches me.

"Hi," I smile. "Congratulations, I suppose."

"Thanks, I suppose." He pauses, then opens his mouth as if to say something but nothing comes out.

"Are you wondering what brings me here?" I guess.

"Sure am," he grins nervously.

"Well Matt, Sophie's brother, is a very good friend of mine. He asked me to come."

"Oh, right. That's cool," he laughs softly. It's a nice sound, I do admit.

"I uh, hear you're artistic." His eyebrows, particularly the left one I notice, fly up. "Oh, oh my god! Not like that!"

He just laughs, loudly.

"That's what I thought when Matt told me," I manage to say between giggles.

"I don't know how many people have been saying it like that, but I'm a photographer."

"Oh right. That makes a lot more sense. And now a lot of my questions have answers now."

"Questions like what?"

"Like, what type of art do you associate with," I tell him with a cheesy smile on my face. He laughs again, which is good because I was hoping that one was funny. Some people's humour varies quite a lot. Or maybe he's being nice.

"Now you know." He leans against the wall, resting his head there too. I copy his motions, for whatever reason.

"Have you spoken to mum yet?" he asks me, to which I pinch myself mentally.

"No, I haven't. I've been meaning to all night."

"I think she sort of likes you. She's told me all about what you said on the train yesterday."

"Has she really?" I didn't say _a lot_ on the train but I said some strange things. David must see the worry on my face because he reassures me it was only good things. Still, I panic inside a little.

"She told me some things about you, too," I say, trying to draw the attention away from myself.

"What did she tell you?" he asks and leans forward, getting closer to me. I can smell his cologne now. It's a strong scent, and I love it already.

Because of his proximity, I drop my voice to something just above a whisper. "She told me how you had long hair when you were eleven, but cut it all off yourself because you suddenly found it annoying." I smile. The thought of this man with long hair is ridiculous.

"She told me you ran away once. Stayed out all night because-

"Because I was looking for our pet dog Boots," he finishes. There's this look in his eyes now. It's one of remembrance but also of sadness. Carmen did say he really loved that dog. More than anything in his childhood she thinks.

I continue with saying what things she's told me about this man. Who I already admire so much, it's crazy.

"She said you have an appendicitis scar right here," I mumble and touch a place low on his stomach on his right side. I remember Carmen telling me exactly where it is. I also remember the other scar he has. I move my hand up his chest to his ribs. "There's one here too. From when you were seventeen and tried to sneak out but you scratched yourself quite horribly on your back fence and had to go back inside immediately to tell her." I laugh softly at that one. I like that story.

For quite a few moments we just look at each other. I wonder what he's thinking about when he looks at me the way he does. It's like he's trying to figure something out, which is fair because that's what I'm trying to do. We seem to be doing this a lot, and it's getting less frightening each time it happens. It only feels more natural, if anything. He's handsome; he's nice to look at, but there's more. It's still just as unknowable since the first time but it's constantly more exhilarating.

He smiles at me a little bit, and I return it. I feel like I have to.

"David?" That's Sophie's voice. I know it is. And even though I know, I still cannot bring myself to look away. Not until Sophie claims that David needs to dance with her. The look on her face doesn't go unnoticed. She definitely thinks something is happening; though nothing is. I don't think.

As soon as he's dragged away I make up my mind to find Matt. Maybe he can distract me from... Whatever I seem to be feeling. I'm attracted to him. I'll admit that. And yet, I never want to do anything about it. I _shouldn't_ do anything about it. Well, I try to tell myself that. So maybe Sophie is right. Maybe there is something, but it's not going to be anything more than it is. They're engaged, I'm married. That's how it is. And that's how it will stay.

\

I think Matt has left. He didn't really say goodbye. He was pissed. I do think I saw someone help him outside to drive him home. So for the last half hour David and I have been talking again. He found me, _again_. We're in the doorway where I was standing for the speeches. He says some of the most interesting things I've ever heard. He's intelligent but not so much that he throws it in your face. He's funny but naturally. He doesn't try for an easy joke, and I like that. David is sort of... Simple, in a way.

"What made you want to be an actor?" he asks me. There are so many answers to this question. All of which I have used at various points in my life, but I don't feel the need to bullshit with David. He's just asking.

"I just like it," I tell him honestly. "There was this moment when I was younger, and I was watching some show or movie and I just turned around to my mum and said 'I want to do that'. It wasn't some big moment, it was just me saying I wanted to do something, like any kid does, but I made it happen."

"Nothing like you wanted to please your parents or something?" He laughs lightly then, which I almost don't understand.

"No. If anything they didn't want me to get into the acting thing, because it's difficult and they wanted me to have something normal and stable. Something I could rely on," I say seriously. "But then you get your first lead role in a play, and you stand backstage. The lights go down in the theatre and everyone goes silent." He stares intensely at me. He's really listening to me. He actually cares about what I'm telling him.

"That feeling you get, like five seconds before you have to go on. It's butterflies in my stomach, because anything can happen. You could potentially fuck up the entire show, which is almost exciting," I pause and take a breath. "My head has nothing in it except the lines I've learnt. It's like nothing else. And I feel that at every show. It never changes." I look down at my feet, and I notice his hand. His fingers twitch like he wants to grab hold of something. Like he wants to hold my hand. I almost reach out for him but I hear footsteps come towards us quite quickly, and angrily.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," Sophie says, forcibly calmly it seems. "I feel like I've been looking for you all night."

"I've been right here," David replies simply.

"Exactly." She's upset now, and I feel like an idiot. I catch her eye and she glances away, looking embarrassed. She shouldn't feel that way. She probably has every right. David shouldn't be here, talking to me. He should be out there with Sophie. She's been trying to dance with him all night. And granted, he doesn't look like someone who dances too often, but he should if his fiancé asks him.

David gives me a lingering glance as Sophie pulls him away, literally. I decide I've probably overstayed my welcome, so I push past the rest of Sophie's young and drunk friends and find the closet my coat and bag would be hanging up in. I put my coat on as I walk swiftly out the front door.

Only a few seconds behind me is David. I don't have to turn around, I just _know_. I walk out onto the footpath and take a few paces down the street before I spin around to face him.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" he asks back.

"You know what." I tell him, no nonsense. He takes a step closer. He's probably a metre away, but it's so close.

"Can I have your number?" he quickly asks, avoiding this conversation. Not that I mind. I'm avoiding it too.

"I don't think so."

"It's just a number," he tries again. With that smirk he has. It won't work.

"I'm married."

"So?"

"So that means things!"

"What if something happens, and I need to call someone? Like if someone dies."

"There are other people you can call."

"What if I have two tickets to a show? Or if I get plane tickets to an island somewhere."

"What?" I laugh because this is crazy. He's being crazy.

"Or how about if I buy an island? My very own island."

"Fine," I concede. "If you buy an island then, and only then, can you call me."

He stares at me like none of this is a joke. He's really pressing hard to get my phone number. Maybe I should just give it to him so he stops.

"I just want to have a drink with you." I eye him skeptically. "Just one drink. We can drink water if you want."

"I don't want to drink water with you," I grin. David looks across the street and spots an older gentleman walking.

"Would you drink water with him?" I look at this man. He seems normal enough.

"I think so, yes."

"Then why wouldn't you have water with me?" Okay. He has a point, but I can't tell him that it's because I don't feel an intense attraction to that nice looking gentleman. David falls silent, waiting for me to say it though.

"You know why."

"No, you tell me," he insists. I can't actually say it. I cannot bring myself to tell him anything. I want to tell him there is nothing between us, but there is. And it's stunning, it's magical. Totally insane, but it really is something.

I shake my head and look out to the road. Thankfully a cab is making it's way up the street. I call for it and the driver pulls over. I reach for the handle, needing to run away from this. From him. Except David sticks his hand out and grabs mine, stopping me from getting to the door handle.

"You feel it too," he whispers. I look up and into his eyes. They're practically begging for an answer from me. David is pleading, silently. My resolve to not speak about it is wavering. I feel it.

"No," I murmur.

"I feel it. I felt it at the train station, I felt it in the party, and I'm feeling it here." He looks deep into my eyes, and that too familiar feeling of something terrifying and exciting comes flooding back to me. I do feel it. I _have_ been feeling it.

Without thinking further about it, I pull a pen from my bag and take David's hand. I write my mobile number on the inside of his palm and look back up to him. He grins softly but says nothing. And nor do I as I open the cab door and get into the back seat. I tell the man where I need to go, and close the door. I don't look out the window as we drive away.

Not even a whole minute after I leave and my phone starts ringing. I pull it out of my bag. It's not a number my phone recognizes, and I know it's him. I cancel the call. I'm not going to talk to him yet.

It rings again. It's the same number. He has a lot of persistence, I _do_ like that. I still reject his call.

He calls a third time, and this time I don't reject it. I don't answer it either. I know he's not going to give up, and I'm not sure I want him to. I feel something for him, and with him being this way it's even harder to resist. It's not a good idea, which I'm aware of, but as the call rings out I think back to what Carmen said to me on the train.

_"I'd rather sit at home and wish I hadn't, then ever wish I had."_

I don't want to think 'what if I turned back to David?'. I don't feel like I can, even if I tried to. Not now. I hear myself saying, "can you turn around, please?" to the driver. I think I'm on a rush or something. This is so not like me, but it's completely me at the same time. David is so enthralling, so dangerous, and I feel attracted to that. Maybe I'm finally living out my bad teenage years. Who cares what the reason is. I don't want to think about my decisions anymore, not with where this will probably go.

The driver lets me out where David is still standing. He doesn't ask for a fee but I still give him five pounds anyhow.

I slide my hand into David's and give him a nod. It means something. I don't know what I'm telling him yes for, but I have a pretty good guess. And I'm going to go for it.

He pulls us down the driveway of the house next to Matt's parents house and to the side porch of the house. There are no cars, and no lights are on so I'm only hoping there is no one inside this house either. Tree branches cover the porch from a street view, luckily.

David pushes me against the wall beside the door and kisses me. It's not sweet, it's not kind, but I love it. And this is not meant to be sweet or kind. He rubs his hands up my hips and to my waist as I feel his tongue run along my bottom lip. I open my lips more and let his tongue slide into my mouth and _oh god_. He tastes so good. He tastes like the way he looks at me. It doesn't make sense but who cares about what makes sense right now.

He grips his arms around my waist and pulls me away from the wall. We spin around, I think, and then I feel a railing pressing into my lower back. I pull away from kissing him, just for a moment and look into his eyes. He's gorgeous, and it's amazing. I lift a hand to his face and pull him back to me. We kiss for a while longer, biting and sucking whenever and wherever we can, but it isn't long until we're panting and he's running his hands up my thighs, trying to pull my dress up too.

I break away from David and catch my breath. I reach a hand underneath my dress and pull my underwear down and off my legs, while at the same time David strips off his suit jacket, dropping it to the ground. His hands are back onto my thighs, and he picks me up, resting my ass on the railing. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He pushes my dress right up to my hips as I fumble to get his belt buckle undone and unzip his pants, trying to kiss him at the same time.

My head is so cloudy, and my skin is _burning_. I'm overheating. David has his hands all over me and it makes me feel like I'm on fire. My breathing is all but gone at this point. It's too much, and not enough.

He wraps an arm around my waist as one grips my thigh, _hard_. He dips his head and kisses down my neck. His hot breath feels so good against my skin. It's intoxicating. His tongue traces a line across my collarbone and I moan inadvertently.

"Shh," he hisses, then he pushes into me and I dig my nails into his back. It feels so good. So, _so,_ good.

He pumps hard and fast, it's expected but my god is it amazing. He doesn't lose his pace, he doesn't slow down at all. He pushes further, and harder, and _deeper._

"More," I pant in his ear and claw at his ass with one hand, urging him on. He groans against my mouth and it's the sexiest sound I've heard. He works his hips like he knows what I like already, which is impossible.

But he has me gasping and panting and everything feels so _hot_. There's a moment, when I'm close. So close. He slows down just for a minute and looks into my eyes. I don't remember anyone looking at me like _that_. Not even... I shut that thought out.

"Please," I whimper, I need him to keep going. This is torture. He lifts up a hand and strokes some of my hair out of my eyes. It's the sweetest gesture thus far. There's emotion in that.

Then he thrusts hard, hitting a spot that makes my eyes roll back into my head, David's hand gripping into my hair. He hits the perfect spot over and over and I moan loudly, dropping my head to his shoulder, wrapping my legs tighter around him. I can feel how close I am, but it's just out of reach. He does something with his hips. Something good enough to make me bite down on his shoulder and within seconds I'm coming undone, holding onto him tightly as my orgasm comes in intense waves. He thrusts three or four more times and then he comes too, kissing my shoulder lightly.

I pull back and stare at him. He seems happy, and I think I am too. I shouldn't be, but I take this moment to feel _it._ I kiss him lightly, just on the side of his mouth. I rest my forehead against his, trying to regain my breath. It's acknowledging what we've just done, but not taking it past this point now. I don't prolong this moment. I have to go home.

I let my feet reach the ground and I pick up my underwear, moving around David so I can shove them into my bag sitting beside this strangers door, where I must have dropped it earlier. My coat is there too. That having been pushed off when David had me pressed against the wall. I pick it up, but just hold it. I'm way too hot to wear it right now.

David has made himself look presentable again as he turns to face me. He actually _fucking smirks_. I step to him, rest a hand against his chest and kiss the look of his face. I linger against his lips for a little too long, then I walk away. I don't look back. I just walk.

When I reach the footpath he yells to me, "I'll call you when I buy that island!" And I only laugh and I walk up the street to find another cab.

\

The whole way home I feel him all over my body. I still feel his lips on my neck, I still feel his hands on my thighs. I recognize myself smiling at this. It feels good.

And surprisingly, it feels just as good as I let myself into my house just when the sky is starting to light up again. I carry my heels and coat in one hand while I hold my bag in the other. I pass Erin's room upstairs and she's fast asleep in bed. She looks so peaceful.

It feels _less_ good when I enter my room. Twig is snoring in bed, thank god. I tiptoe into the wardrobe and drop my things. I give my hair a quick brush and change into a loose t-shirt and cotton shorts. I still don't bother putting underwear on. Then I climb into bed, careful not to wake Twig up.

The sky is brighter now. The sun is probably about to rise, and though I should feel all sorts of guilt and remorse about what I have _just_ done, I don't. It felt right in the moment, and I'm not wishing I hadn't done it now.

I know it can't happen again though. I say it to myself again when I feel Twig's hand rest on my waist. It won't. It really, _really,_ won't.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay. I've had quite a busy week and only just got this bit done.

I once told myself, when I was young, that I would never cheat. That I _could_ never cheat. I’d commit to one person for as long as they’d commit to me. It was against my moral standards to cheat on the person I would probably love one day. I saw my friends become heartbroken over it, and I silently vowed to never let myself do that to someone or let it happen to me. If the person I loved whole heartedly were to ever cheat on me, I’d never forgive them. It is an unforgivable act.

Yet here I am. _I’ve cheated_. I know it’s horrible, and wrong, and completely not me. Though for whatever impossible and insane reason, it also feels _right_.

This man; David. I’m drawn to him in a way I cannot possibly explain. There is something in him that I need to know. That I need to understand. He’s so different to anyone I’ve ever known, and that’s the whole truth.

I am so acutely aware that what I’ve done is unforgivable, and yet I know that I would do it again if time was rewound. I’ve broken my own morals, and yet it feels like it was meant to be. I love my husband, I really do. It’s not as if I’ve fallen out of love with him just because I’ve been unfaithful to him. It’s just that I have become to like someone else at the same time. They’re such different people, and I feel disconnected with myself when I’m with David. He lets me become someone else, but within myself. Which, to me, is why I don’t feel so bad about this. I feel guilty, but in more of a mandatory way if anything. Like I’ve been told to feel this way because of what I have done, but it’s not so simple. I love Twig, but David is so… He makes me feel in a different way. Different to the things I’ve felt for nine years. It’s a strange feeling, one I could never get used to. But it doesn’t feel like it’s going away any time soon…

\

I spend most of my Sunday lazing about the house. When I had woken up Twig was already gone. He’d left a note on the kitchen table saying he had a work lunch to get to. Just to impress some out of town people on a nice Sunday lunch. I’m more grateful for that than ever because I don’t have to hide the obligatory guilt on my face. It’s there, I know it is, but it’s not exactly how I feel inside. I’m more worried for Twig. If he suspected… I don’t know how he’d react. So I take all day to try and cover up the awful look on my face with a smile. I practice, I rehearse. It’s what I do.

I played outside with Erin for a while, and helped her work on some project for school. And after lunch when I couldn’t stand to be in the house any longer I took her out to the park, again. It’s been a rather sunny day and “to waste this weather inside is practically a crime”. That’s what I told Erin. I don’t really believe it.

As she plays on the playground, a game of tag with the other kids, I only think about last night. I can’t get David out of my head. Every time I close my eyes I feel his breath on my skin, and his lips on my body. It won’t go away, no matter how hard I try to make it. It feels like he’s haunting me and it’s only been half a day. I can’t imagine how tomorrow will go.

After a little over an hour at the park I call for my daughter, telling her it’s time to go home. We walk back, hand in hand, and I try to focus on that. How lovely it is to spend an afternoon with her. It works for a while, but then I think of the way David smirks and I’m lost all over again, having to go back to the start and _not_ think about him anymore.

When the two of us get home Twig’s already there, in the kitchen making something for dinner. At least he’s usually on time to do that seeing as I don’t cook.

“Hey, where have you two been?” he asks with a smile, stirring something in a big pot.

“The park,” Erin says as she drops herself onto a chair at the dinner table. I take a seat beside her.

“Again?”

“Mhmm, it was such a nice day I thought why not,” I answer him.

“I saw baby ducks in the park!” Erin calls out excitedly.

“Did you really?” Twig asks her, leaving whatever is cooking to come over to us. He kisses the top of her head before walking over to stand behind me, dropping his hands on my shoulders. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek, just in front of my ear. I bring my hands up and grab onto his arms, keeping them there.

“They were pretty, weren’t they, mummy?”

“Very pretty.”

“I want to draw them,” she says quickly as she jumps from the chair and runs to her bedroom, probably, to go draw the ducks. I laugh softly at her excitement.

I feel Twig take a deep breath and then sigh beside my cheek. He holds me a little tighter and I can’t help but close my eyes and give in to this moment. I run my thumbs back and forward against him arms. He’s just so warm all the time. I’ve always liked that about him. I could be freezing; my fingers about to fall off type of freezing, and all he’ll do is wrap his hands around mine and defrost them. I don’t ever remember him having cold hands. His touch is comforting, and even though I feel like I’m now a damaged and awful woman, it still feels like he’s comforting me about it, regardless of what he doesn’t know. Maybe he thinks something is wrong. He can usually tell, and that’s when he holds me as close as he is now.

 _Fuck_. He definitely knows something is wrong. Maybe he was awake when I came to bed last night. _This morning actually_. Any minute he’ll ask me about it, probably. Ask me why I stayed out so long, ask me why my hair had a leaf stuck in it or something. I’m not even certain there was anything stuck in my hair, but he could have picked it out and thrown it away while I was sleeping. _Shit, fuck, fuck._

“Hey,” he says suddenly, breaking me out of my guilt trance. “Is something wrong?” he asks incredulously. _Shit, shit, shit, shit._

“No.” My voice is a little too high to pass as truthful.

“You just seem, I don’t know, off or something.”

“Nope, nothing’s wrong. Probably just tired from last night.” Not entirely false. I’m tired, that’s for sure. Except it’s not for the right reasons.

“Sure?”

I turn to face him, and look into his eyes. “Absolutely.”

He smiles, kindly, thoughtfully. The look kills a little part of me somewhere. I stand and kiss his cheek lightly, catching the side of his mouth.

“I love you,” he sighs, and then my phone starts to ring. I left it on the kitchen counter before I took Erin out. I wander over to it, not saying anything more to Twig. He only walks back over to what he’s cooking, which smells wonderful. I think it’s my favourite pasta sauce, which he only cooks when he thinks something is upsetting me, or if I’m sick.

I look at the number that reads on the screen  and my heart stops. I don’t know why he’s calling me. Well, I do, but I don’t want him to call me. Maybe if I ignore him long enough I’ll forget about what we’ve done and I’ll be able to look at myself in the mirror and tell myself that I am a good person again. If I shove my thoughts and feelings about David down far enough into some deep and dark crevice then maybe I’ll be alright again. It’s not like I feel unbalanced, I don’t think. I don’t _feel_ unbalanced, but I don’t exactly feel great about any of this. I feel like I’m on a high wire, strung across two massive cliff faces and I’m wobbling my way across. I’m still on the wire, and the idea of falling is terrifying me but I’m managing to stay upright. At least I am for now. _Jesus_ , I’m so going to fall off and this situation has only been happening for three fucking days.

I hit the end call button with a too forceful tap and shove my phone into my back pocket.

“Who was that?” Twig asks casually.

“Probably just a wrong number. I didn’t know the number.” He nods, accepting my white lie.

“Dinner will be ready in ten.”

“Okay. I’ll go get Erin.” I get out of the room as fast as my feet will take me in what I hope looks like an orderly fashion. Though I can feel Twig’s eyes boring into my back, watching me carefully.

I want nothing more than for this day to end. I can’t take any of this anymore. Anything that I’m thinking or feeling. I know I think it felt right, but not if I find myself feeling awful about it all. I can’t think _why._ I felt fine when I was going home, I felt fine going to bed, I even felt fine when I woke up, mostly. It could be my slight fatigue. Though I’m doubting my entire reasoning for sleeping with David. I’m not even sure I had some reasoning. I just turned my brain off somehow. He was looking at me like I was everything to him in that moment. Just when we were standing on the footpath. He looked like he’d be absolutely devastated if I walked away from him, so I couldn’t do that. Why though? My world wouldn’t have ended. My world wouldn’t feel so fucking strange right now if I had just turned away from him. But when I think about how he was looking at me… I’ve never known anyone to look at me like that. Not even Twig. Twig, even at the most romantic of times, only ever looks at me like he needs and wants me. Not like he’ll be broken without me. It’s hard to separate the two looks, but if you experience both, there’s a clear distinction. One is more ‘I need you now or I’ll be lost’, the other is ‘I need you now or I’ll be lost _without you_ ’. The latter has more to do with me than the former. It includes me.

Fucking hell. What has David done to me?

\

He hasn’t called since Sunday. I’ve been keeping track, inadvertently I choose to believe. It’s now Wednesday night. I haven’t thought about him any less, even though I wake up telling myself to not give a single moment to him. It’s failed every time. Thinking about _not thinking_ about him has caused me to give all my spare time to constantly wondering about him. It’s stupid. I’m an idiot, and yet I find that I just cannot help myself.

He’s probably given up, as well he should have. I’m not available, which he maybe has finally understood. Granted I’ve given him a mixed message about that when we… But he’s caught on, eventually. So all I need to do is figure out the mess in my head that concerns a man I will never have, and will possibly never see again.

Which as fucking fate has it, my phone alerts me to a new message. It sits on the coffee table and I reach for it. Twig and I are watching something on the TV. I’m not paying attention, it’s something Twig wanted to watch. And he’s quite into it because my phone or my movement haven’t disturbed him in any way. He’s stretched out, his legs crossed at his ankles and resting over the arm of the couch, and with a beer in his hand. There’s not a lot that will distract him at the moment. So I bring my phone into my lap, pull my knees up and tuck my legs underneath me, trying to face away from him a little bit as I open the message from the number I’ve been seeing everywhere for four days.

_Hey you_

It reads. Is that it? Is he drunk? He could be. I don’t know what goes on in David’s life on a Wednesday night. It’s barely ten but he could have gotten wasted early on. Which is why I shouldn’t reply. If he’s under the influence then he will probably want to take this somewhere it can’t go, and with how much I’ve been thinking about him, I might let him. Instead of risking anything, I ignore the message.

And a minute later my phone buzzes again.

_What are you up to?_

No. I’m not replying. I’m trying to forget. It’s not going that well but I need more time, and less of him.

_Not ignoring me are you?_

I feel bad now. It’s a lot easier to ignore someone when they have no clue. Maybe he isn’t drunk then. He seems to be thinking clearly. Probably. I glance over at Twig; still immersed in his program about cars or something. Maybe messaging him wouldn’t be all that bad. It’s only a text. There’s no harm in that. We could even become friends one day.

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? We’ll never be friends. Yet here I am, contemplating if it’s a good idea to text him back or not. If I’m still thinking about it, then maybe it means something. It means that somewhere inside my brain I _want_ to message him, and maybe see him again. And with all my inner back and forth I choose to put my fingers to the screen and write a reply. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Yet it’s thrilling. I could almost enjoy it.

_I’m not ignoring you._

_Oh hi then_

_Hi_

There’s a break between messages. Maybe he’s going to sleep. I really hope not. I take the pause to turn my phone to silent. Twig still hasn’t mentioned anything about my phone. He doesn’t usually care anyway, but if it’s this late he’ll make a comment about why people are still up and texting so much. My phone vibrates in my hand and I look back down.

_How are you?_

_Good. How about you?_

_Great actually_

I hate this point in a conversation. You’ve exhausted all the talking starters, and where does that leave you? Nowhere. But then my phone vibrates again.

_I’ve got a show coming up. With some photos I took._

_That sounds good. I bet they’re really nice._

_They are. You should come see them sometime_

_I don’t know about that.._

_Why not? What’s the worst that could happen_

Is he really asking that? Of course the worst of the worst could happen because we’ve already done that once. I reply to him a few minutes later, hoping he took the time to realize how utterly stupid that comment was.

_I just don’t think it’s a good idea._

_Your call then._

I don’t know how to respond. I don’t have anything in particular that I’d like to say to him, but I don’t feel like putting my phone down and not hearing from him again now that I _have_ spoken to him. Even if it’s just texting David I feel like I can’t stop. My phone vibrates again just as I hear a soft snore beside me.

_So what have you been doing tonight?_

Before I can think clearly, my fingers are tapping on my screen and writing a response. Twig isn’t awake to see anything and since he is asleep I feel a little lonesome now. I don’t exactly talk to anyone on a regular basis. I’m usually horrible at sending replies to texts and emails. Not many people seem to mind anymore; they’ve gotten used to it. Yet sometimes I know it would be nice to talk to someone else who isn’t my husband. That sounds bad, but there is only so much about his work that I can listen to before I start zoning out.

Right now I feel like David is offering that. Something different and interesting, and as I continue to talk to him for another half hour I realize that he’s quite smart and witty and I like him even more. I shouldn’t be trying to get to know him, but it’s just nice. Maybe I can make sure we’re only friends. We could probably get on pretty well if we don’t ever shag again.

\

At some point Twig wakes up but only after I made my way to bed. David stopped replying, and since it’s almost midnight I decide it’s because he fell asleep. Twig takes off his clothes and drops down into bed beside me, mumbling a “goodnight”, and he’s practically fast asleep again. It honestly does not take him long to fall asleep. I turn onto my side, facing away from him and close my eyes.

A couple minutes later my phone buzzes on my bedside table. It glows in the dark of my room and I pull it to my chest so the light doesn’t bother Twig, if at all.

It’s from David; an unread message.

_Are you busy right now?_

Yes. About to go to sleep. Why on Earth is he asking? He couldn’t possibly want to see me now. It’s after midnight and I’m in bed, with someone else snoring beside me. My thumbs are poised over the keyboard but I don’t know what to say, really.

_Why?_

It’s as good a place to start as any.

_Come for a walk with me_

_What? Now?_

_Yeah, now_

_It’s the middle of the night!_

_Exactly. Come out with me. Please_

What could he possibly have to show me? I knew this would lead somewhere it shouldn’t go. I can’t do this. _I can’t do this_. I could settle on being friends, but I can’t be doing secret middle of the night meet ups. I have to draw the line somewhere, and I’m doing that now, because I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. My husband is sleeping next to me for fuck’s sake. I have got to tell David that we aren’t doing this. I text him my address and slowly get out of bed. I’m going to tell him face to face that we can’t be doing this. Hopefully he’ll understand more if I’m actually telling him.

I tiptoe to the closet and pull some clothes on. It’s probably cold outside so I settle on jeans, a long sleeved shirt and a jacket. It’ll do, because I am only going outside for a minute or two at the most. Definitely.

I grab my phone and make my way downstairs. I go to the front hallway mirror and pull my hair up into a ponytail. It’s too messy to let _anyone_ see that, and I wasn’t risking going into the bathroom and possibly waking Twig up.

Ten minutes pass and I get a text from David saying he’s outside. I walk out there and spot him across the road. I take a deep breath, ready to tell him exactly what I need to. But when I get about four feet away from him, he smiles and I lose half my courage. I look down to my feet and say the words in my head once, ready to say them out loud.

“I… I’m just coming to tell you that I can’t text you anymore.” I look up just in time to see his face fall into sadness and confusion. I continue, “I’m not going to reply anymore. So if you text me again, and I don’t say anything, it’s not because my phone isn’t working. It is working, I’m just not talking to you anymore.” My voice shakes a little at the end. This almost hurts to tell him because he’s looking so disappointed now.

“I just wanted to go for a walk,” he whispers. I open my mouth to tell him no but before I can a dog barks and startles me. I jump a little and look around. Someone’s automatic light turns on and I look to David, who looks insanely attractive in the low light.

“Come on, just a walk,” he mumbles and reaches out his hand. I shake my head lightly, the dog still barking somewhere around us. David starts to walk backwards and wiggles his fingers out for me. He looks so enticing, and it’s nice, almost, that he just wants to go for a walk. I look into his eyes briefly and I decide I trust him with that. Just a walk. I follow after him and wrap my fingers around his.

We walk down my street and turn a corner, then he pulls me down the path that leads into the nearby park. There’s a white arrow spray painted on the ground and David stops to stare at it.

“What’s that?” I ask with trepidation.

“An arrow,” he remarks. David steps forward a couple metres and there’s another arrow drawn on the ground pointing forward. He points at it. “Another one,” he says.

This happens a few more times and I trail behind him until he reaches a tiny fenced off area. It was there the other day; some council men are working on something in the ground there. There’s a dull flashing orange light bulb that hangs off a piece of wire and David just stands beside it, smiling at me.

“Make this yourself?” I joke, knowing better.

“Sure did.”

“Well, it’s lovely,” I stifle a laugh.

“Here, I got this for you.” David reaches for a small plastic bag that is tied around one of the posts the fence is attached to. He pulls out a small cable tie and reaches for my hand. He wraps the plastic around my wrist and tightens it. I can hear the small _clickclickclickclick_ of the tie and even with the sound of outdoor noises it’s so loud. His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist, and even though it’s absurd I find this cute.

“I love it,” I tell him and smile warmly.

“I’m so glad.” He takes my hand into his and our fingers mesh together, it feels nice. Natural even. David’s hands feel like a perfect complement to mine. They just fit. And it’s fucking frightening.

“This is crazy,” I mutter. David seems to pause and stares at our hands holding onto one another.

“This is the only thing I know.” He looks up to me and stares into my eyes. He’s looking at me with such adoration. I can feel my heartbeat quicken. He feels something deeper, like I do. I know that now, staring into his eyes. That deep brown that’s so enticing and warm.

“I really shouldn’t be here,” I whisper. I am in two minds. Part of me wants to be around David, wants to grab his hand and walk away with him. The _sane_ part of me has to run, and go back to bed. “I have a husband.” David takes a breath to say something but I cut him off. “A husband that thinks I am beside him right now. In our bed. I really have to go home, I-

“Stop thinking about it,” he interrupts. I stare at him. How could he just say that? It’s not exactly easy to not think about it.

“I’ve really got to go home,” I say, stronger this time. And then he starts stroking the inside of my wrist again and I pull my hand away. “Because the longer I stand here the worser person I become.” He doesn’t say anything in return, so I take that as an opportunity to start walking away.

“Wait,” he calls after me, and I stop. I don’t know what I want to do, but I stop anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

“Not exactly what I had in mind. This is worse. So much worse.”

I’m in David’s car. Just sitting here, parked on the street. He gave me a look before, when he told me to wait. I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to be with him. I _want_ to be with him. There may be another life I am having, a proper life, but this one is more curious. I want to be part of this. Being in such close proximity to David makes me forget all about my real life. I just want to be here with him, experiencing something with him.

“It’s only driving,” he whispers to me, and starts the car, engine roaring to life on a dead quiet street. I don’t bother with an excuse as he drives away. Probably because I won’t even believe it myself. Why bother?

We’re both silent for five minutes as David makes his way out to the main road. I’ve got no idea where he’s going, and I find that I don’t mind. I’ve given in now. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m comfortable with this man, and I just want to be around him.

“Where are we going?” I ask him.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs and glances at me before looking back to the road. What sort of conversation do I make now? I’m too tired to come up with something interesting.

“Have you spoken to Sophie?” I ask, staring at my hands in my lap, a wave of guilt flowing over me.

“No,” David says sternly.

“Aren’t you worried about her?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” he says, trying to convey his concern but ultimately failing. It doesn’t seem right to me, they way he doesn’t really show he cares.

“You should call her,” I instruct him. “You can’t just… Leave someone like that.”

“What am I going to say to her?” He fidgets in his seat, adjusting the position of his hands against the wheel.

“I don’t know. Maybe that leaving her at her engagement party was a really, really bad thing to do and that you’re a horrible, horrible person?” I say, almost smiling at the terrible thought of it. Uncomfortably so, of course.

“I didn’t leave by myself,” he declares.

“Exactly,” I breathe. He _left_ her, _with_ me.

“And whose fault is that?” I can’t believe him.

I stare out the window, elbow resting on the car door as I say, “I just think we would feel better if you apologized.”

“We?” he glances over at me. I think he’s smirking a little. Nothing about this is exactly funny or humorous in any sense but I think he’s only trying to brighten the mood between us. I shouldn’t have said anything about Sophie…

I choose not to answer him. I don’t even feel like I should be the one to apologize to Sophie. Of course I feel sorry but if David and I are going to say anything to her he should do it first. Considering they were the ones in a relationship.

I stare out the window again, trying to avoid seeing David from the corner of my eye. I focus on the road and the buildings we pass, not entirely recognizing any of them. I think he’s taking us out if the city centre. I don’t know where we are, and despite me feeling only _slightly_ agitated about our conversation, I don’t feel nervous about where he’s heading. Wherever that may be. We drive along for another five minutes in silence. It’s not exactly uncomfortable. I don’t feel the need to say anything and I don’t feel tension in this small space. I’m fully understanding now how nice it is just to be with David. And almost like he can read my mind he reaches his hand out, palm facing up. I don’t hesitate to slide my fingers through his and grab hold of his hand.

I take a moment to look at our connected hands and just feel. His are soft but a little calloused, like he uses them often but for nothing extraneous. His fingers are kind of long, but I don’t think too hard about that. And I notice that he doesn’t squeeze my hand, like he needs to know my hand is in his. It’s like he’s just holding me. He’s even as sweet now as he was before when he was holding the rest of my body. He’s gentle, yet firm. Twig always finds it necessary to squeeze my hand, like at any moment my hand could drop from his. Up until this very moment I have believed that’s nice, and kind, and what someone in love would do. Yet now it just feels overly possessive. Now that I’m feeling like David holds hands like someone should. Fuck, I’m getting worked up over hand holding. This is what teenage girls do over their first boyfriends.

David pulls over on some street. I didn’t even realize he was slowing down. He squeezes my hand, but just for a moment, to grab my attention. I look up to him and he gestures out in front of him with a nod of his head.

We are far up on a hill somewhere, over-looking the entire city. It’s a beautiful sight. The various lights that glow across the night are like stars; I’ve always loved that about a big city. If you imagine hard enough it’s almost like they _are_ the stars.

“Come on,” David interrupts my thoughts. “Let’s get out the car.” He lets go of my hand, to my utter disappointment, and opens his door. I follow his lead and get out the car. “I have this idea,” he tells me, and then slides onto the bonnet and crosses to the middle. “Sit here with me, I want to show you something.”

Without making a sound I climb up onto the car and sit beside David, bringing my knees close to my chest. I stare at David, wishing he’d say something of substance now. Wishing he would say something that grants me a reason for being here, instead of home. His hands darts out from his lap and grazes my leg, just above my ankle.

“I come up here, or somewhere similar sometimes,” he begins as his fingers trace up my calf, which is thankfully protected by my jeans because any skin on skin contact right now could become problematic. I know it. “When I need to clear my head, or get ideas.”

“For your artistic side?” I grin.

“Yeah,” he laughs softly and drops his head down, looking at his feet which are close to the front bumper. He has very long legs. “I’ve photographed this city from almost every angle by now.” His fingers trail further up my leg towards my knee as he continues talking. “Some nights when I can’t sleep I head out to places about this far back and capture everything I see. It’s in the middle of the night mostly, and things are just so quiet,” he whispers. So then I focus on the nothing that I hear. An occasional car passes a street or two over from the one we’re on, but that’s it.

“I wander around sometimes. Walking up and down the streets. Some places are more quiet than the others. I like those ones most,” he sighs. I can picture him walking all over, a camera in his hands. David just strikes me as the type to run out alone and be by himself for a while, regardless of what reasons led him to some place. Or if he had reasons at all. His fingers have by now reach the tops on my thighs and he finds my hand that I’ve been resting in my lap.

“After so much time in the quiet, you sort of start hearing the smaller things.”

“How do you mean?” I whisper, enthralled by the way his fingertips are dancing across my wrist, finding my pulse. He looks to me and I stare deep into his eyes.

“You get accustomed to the tiny things around you. Like,” he pauses and stutters a little trying to find the right words. It’s endearing, I find. “Here, listen.”

I try, I really do, but I can’t hear anything. Not really. I look at him expectantly, wondering what it is he is hearing that I’m not. His free hand points above us.

“I can hear that light buzzing.” I concentrate, and then ever so briefly I hear a small buzz emanating from the street lamp that hangs above us, casting us in an orange hue. “Can you?”

I simply nod, because once I’ve caught that sound I can’t unhear it, and I don’t want to disturb it.

“And I can hear trucks driving across the motorway from over there.” He points to our left and I can only just see the road, not even the trucks David speaks of.

“What else?” I smile. This is amazing. He’s so in tune with his surroundings. Maybe that’s why he’s so caring, and considerate.

“Police sirens.” Nothing for me. “Skateboards on the road.” Nope. “Someone has their TV on.”

“Wait, I can hear the TV!” He grins when I do, and it’s so nice to watch. “That’s… Incredible.”

“I know,” he mumbles.

I pull my free hand up to push some of my hair back that has fallen from the hair tie.

“I can hear my wrist clicking!” I realize. I bend it back and forward a few times. “I’ve never noticed that before.”

David just laughs softly and the hand that has been stroking my hand for the past couple of minutes comes up to my face and his thumb brushes over my cheek. He’ll kiss me now. And I know that this is probably where this whole night has been leading but I’m not sure if I can do it. David leans in, ready to kiss me but I interrupt him.

“Oh, hear that?”

He smiles, so close to my face. I’m going crossed eyed trying to see that smile.

“Hear what?”

“Um, an aeroplane.” I don’t really hear anything. David hums, asking me to go on. “Yeah, it’s sort of like a clanking sound? It’s probably the ladies with the trolleys, asking for any rubbish the passengers have.”

David pulls back from me, but he’s amused. He’s enjoying this, and as long as it’s keeping us from kissing then I’m happy to keep going.

“They’ve just asked everyone to put the tray tables up and readjust their seats. Seatbelts on.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Oh, it’s the last flight in from California.”

He giggles, actually giggles. It’s so cute and childish, but I like that. And not just for the fact that he’s laughing at my lame excuse for a joke about being able to hear far away things.

Then his lips crash into mine; I saw it happening and I didn’t pull away. I want this. Oh, how I want this. I interlace my fingers with his which have fallen still in my lap. His tongue traces over my bottom lip, asking for more, and I’m hard pressed to find a thought so unequivocal as to why this is so wrong. I can actually taste him, and it’s something strong. It’s dark and musky and light and overwhelming and perfect. Distinctly him; _David._

And in the haziness of my brain, the one that has been switching back and forth between where I am right now, and the part of me that is still back in bed with my husband, I start to feel something against the back of my neck. It’s what I feel almost every day. I know it’s not there now, but it is. He is. _Twig is._ My brain knows I’m meant to be with him now, so it’s challenging me. And in my head I feel myself turn around and fall into my husband. I feel his tongue against mine, like I am so used to. It feels like home, and constant love and years of devotion. Then again I feel something else, _someone else_ , behind me, pulling me back into him.

I’m going crazy. In this moment I have lost all sanity. And really, I can only blame myself. But I don’t want this to stop. Not anymore. I can’t stop myself being from David. I’ve tried that. Failed miserably, but maybe that’s the point. I can’t _not_ be away from him. He’s this phenomenal force of nature that I want to run to and lose myself in. While at the same time, I can’t imagine giving up the life I have for anything. There is nothing wrong with my life. I’m not unhappy with it, or with my family. I just know there is more now. Something where I can reach for more, and I can’t go back.

\

My first thought when I wake up: The sun. It’s fucking _horrible_. Too bright. Why is it so unearthly bright? It’s stupid.

I roll over and groan, pushing my face into my mattress.

“Good morning,” Twig says to me, cheerily. How dare he. I groan in response. Talking is not a viable option for me as of this second.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” he chuckles. Oh god, he has a cup of coffee with him. I can smell it so clearly over the fuzziness in my head.

“Mm, how long have I been asleep?” I ask groggily as I turn to face where his voice is coming from. It’s still to bright to open my eyes. By the strength of light shining in through the windows I know it has to be later in the morning. Maybe about nine.

“Eleven.”

“Oh, no way.”

“Afraid so.” I can hear that cheeky smile he does when he wants to kiss me and tell me that we’ll spend the day in bed. Not today, please not today. I finally open my eyes and I squint, barely making out Twig.

“I had this weird dream last night,” he starts to recite and sits down on his side of the bed. His coffee still in his hand. I don’t even get a sip apparently.

“What dream?” I know he was asleep the whole time while I was gone, otherwise he would have stayed up and waited for me. He would have called me a thousand times. And I’m not sure he’d be here right now if he’d noticed I was missing for almost three hours.

“I had woken up, and you weren’t here,” he scoffs, _not_ unhappily mind you. Though my heart starts racing quite quickly. “I had reached over for you and you were gone.”

“That is a strange dream,” I mumble, turning my head back over to face my window, away from his eyes.

“I couldn’t figure out why you were gone,” he laughs. Maybe he does think that was a dream.

“Oh, you know,” I start saying. “I just sneaked out with my lover for a few hours and then fucked him in the front yard before I came back to bed,” I _stupidly_ finish. Probably not the time for a joke. Which isn’t even a joke. It happened. Yet Twig is laughing beside me, loud and happy.

“Some dream you must have had then.”

“Yeah, sure was.”

“I don’t even get to kiss you in any of my dreams.”

“Mmm, poor you.”

“Alright, well I’ll make you some breakfast if you get out of bed now.” I feel the mattress lift in the area he just moved from and then I hear his footsteps leave the room, and trudge down the stairs. Strange how I can hear that now. Never heard it before.

Which reminds me… I pull out my arm that has been resting underneath my pillow and look at my wrist. The cable tie is still in place. I think to my perfect night that only ended a few hours ago. Everything about being with David is such a heady experience. It infects me with so many emotions and physical feelings. I grin, all big and bright as I think about the moment he put that tie on. It feels symbolic. I’m tied to him, and it’s going to take one hell of a cut to break me loose from him.

I drag my tired body out of bed and jump into the shower. I leave the cable tie on as long as I can, which is only half an hour at the most. Then I reluctantly cut it off and place it in my jewellery box. I’m keeping it. It’s a memory I never want to forget.

All through breakfast with Twig I keep remembering what it was like to be held by David, and what it’s like to talk with him, and to kiss him, and to look at him. I’m connected to him. And it’s not going away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am INCREDIBLY sorry for updating so late. I was waiting on getting my new laptop, which I now have! So I can update regularly again. Now this chapter may be a little OOC but it's an AU so I think it's alright. Enjoy it everybody!

I haven’t been thinking properly for two days now. Everything is coming back to David in my head, and I don’t know how that is even possible. I think about the way he looks at me, and the way he holds me, and how he speaks to me. That’s what I’m most caught up on, if anything; the way we talk. It’s normal, like we’ve been friends for years. Things feel so familiar with him. When we speak, he really listens to me and responds with so much interest, and I do the same with him. With Twig, after being together for this long sometimes I’m not sure if he’s really interested about me and what I have to talk about or if he’s just humouring me while he thinks about “more important” things.

Though, in an effort to stop myself from thinking the worst about Twig and my marriage – which isn’t even bad, I’m just focusing too much on someone else and trying to find faults in something that is good – I’ve decided to take Twig out for the night to an event that Matt has invited us to. I’m not entirely sure what it is, but I didn’t really ask Matt in the first place. He just asked if I wanted to go to this gallery of some description that was having a small party and I said yes.

We drop Erin off at a friend’s house for the night on the way to the gallery. Matt told us kids could go but I’d rather not bring her, because though I think it will be an interesting night, it’s not interesting to a child. I’d rather Erin have a sleepover than complain about being tired and hungry and how much she wants to go home. I want this to be a night for Twig and I. I want to get myself back on track, sort of, with him. There is no reason why I can’t still be in love with him as much as I was when we first fell in love. It’s possible, isn’t it? To be madly in love with two people? I’ve been asking myself that for the last two days, and I hope to God that tonight will prove that.

As Twig and I arrive to the party, there are some heads that turn. That’s because of me, but it’s nothing we aren’t used to. At least at this point in my “break” no one comes up to me anymore and asks for a photo or something like that. I’m not really a household name anymore, and I like that. I can walk about more freely than I used to be able to. I expect that to change soon; everyone will be asking when I will make my return. I don’t really have an answer if I’m honest.

As we enter the main room I can see from the corner of my eye someone coming towards me and Twig with a stunned look on their face. I instinctively grab hold of Twig’s arm and drag him to the side of the room and hide behind some people, hopefully losing the sight of whoever it was coming towards us.

“What’s that for?” Twig chuckles gently while holding my hand.

“I hate it when people come towards me looking like him.”

“Looking like what?” Twig glances behind us, trying to spot him.

“Just that he wants to talk to me for five hours about how I inspired him to do something with his life.”

“You’ve never had a problem with that before…” He has a point. I don’t usually mind it when people do this, most of the time I welcome it.

“I’m just not in the mood for it right now,” I say honestly. Twig nods sympathetically and hugs me quickly. It isn’t long before he pulls away from me and takes me into the room more.

Matt finds us after a few minutes and saunters directly over to us.

“So happy you made it, both of you,” he grins.

“Thank you for the invite,” Twig says and grins back.

“Hey, I know you just got here but would I be able to take Catherine aside for just a moment?” Matt asks Twig, to which he nods and announces he’ll grab us a couple of drinks. Matt eyes him and waits until he’s out of hearing range before speaking with me any further.

“What? What is it?” I ask. Matt just smirks, then pats his hand over the top pocket in his suit jacket.

“I have something for you. Well, and me,” he whispers.

“What?” I grin. He leans in to whisper into my ear.

“I have, in my pocket, a joint for each of us.” He pulls back and raises his eyebrows, smiling like a mad man, but with some uncertainty in his eyes. I open my mouth to protest but he interrupts before I even get the chance. “Now I know what you’re going to say. That you never have, and _never_ would, but this will be the only time I will ever ask of you to do it with me. Apart from that one other time when I didn’t know you didn’t.” I laugh softly and look down to the ground.

I think I’m actually contemplating whether I should do this or not. Which shows just how out of control my life is at the moment. I _was_ about to say absolutely not but then Matt made a half-assed argument to make me do it and now I’m thinking about it. It wasn’t even an argument, Matt just said he’d only ask once and then he’d leave it at that.

I’ve never smoked pot in my entire life. Never had the rebellious urge to, and I didn’t think I was ever stupid enough to do it. It’s just not for me. But here I am thinking maybe I should, just once. _To see what it’s like._

“Okay, give me one,” I whisper and his face lights up. “I’m not saying I will, but just give it to me anyway. Maybe Twig will if I don’t.”

“I actually got three and I’ve already had part of one before I got here,” Matt confesses as he sneakily reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small joint.

“You’re high?”

“A bit, yeah. Like I wasn’t going to ask you about this but then suddenly I did and now look at you!”

“Oh, shut up. Like I said, I might not. I probably won’t.”

“At least you’ll be in possession,” he says as he indicates for me to put my hand out. I grab the thing from him and reach into my handbag hanging over my shoulder to place it in one of the side inside pockets.

“This feels bad,” I frown.

“Good bad?”

“No, just bad.”

“Oh, okay.”

I stare at Matt, wondering what is going through his head right now because he looks pleased anyway, but I’m not sure what at. Then Twig returns and he has a drink for both Matt and I. A glass of water for me, because I don’t even drink, but I’m standing here with an illegal substance in my bag. I’m so very not me right now, and that is terrifying. I’ve come here tonight to try and be myself again, to possibly somehow distance myself away from David and whatever hold I have on him. Right now I feel like all I want to do is see him, and sit with him. Stay up all night and just talk. I hate thinking about all of this while I’m with Twig, but I can’t help it.

 

\

 

Twig and I split up because I want to actually walk around the room and look at the photographs on display, while he would rather chat and make new friends. They’re brilliant pictures. Each corner of the room has a different theme. One is black and white, various types of scenery in the pictures. Though there are a lot of people in those ones. Another corner has colour photos of houses mostly. Some are small cottages. There are close ups of doors, and window frames, and just various bits and pieces you find lying beside the house walls. Like bikes, and garden tools. Somehow something so mundane has been made to look beautiful. The section I’m in has both colour, and black and white photos. Pictures of London. Pictures of being _in_ London and looking out, and they’re amazing. I’m fairly certain that the pictures are in a certain order, because the first few are photos of the middle of the city and the next few are working their way out. It’s not just a random order. A lot of thought has gone into this show, I realize.

“Like them?” I turn around quickly to the voice that comes from behind me. _Christ, why can’t I avoid him…_

“David,” my voice is already shaking. I’m scared now. Twig is here, somewhere. And now David is too.

“Do you like the pictures?” he asks again, and gestures to the ones upon the wall behind me.

“I, um, yes.” I turn back around to focus on them, instead of David. That’s the right decision, I hope.

“They’re mine.” And I flip around again to face him.

“Yours?”

“I told you I had a show coming up,” he smirks. _Fuck, not that look again._

“I didn’t make the connection,” I say vaguely.

“And why would you?” I shrug in response. “Have you seen them all yet?”

“No, I haven’t seen those,” I mention while pointing to the corner behind him.

“Oh, good,” he smiles broadly, and it’s blinding. “Come see them then.” He reaches his hand out, expecting me to take it.

“I can’t. Twig’s here.” He looks hurt now, like I’ve just stuck a knife in his hand. But it’s also a look of realization that I am actually married, that someone else has me. That I’m not just David’s.

“Right.” He tucks his hands behind his back and begins walking over to the corner I have yet to see. “You can still walk with me.” He doesn’t ask, which I kind of like. So I start following him.

“This is my favourite set. The one I worked the hardest on. I’ve technically already told you about it,” David says and smiles. I make myself look away from him and towards his pictures.

He did tell me about these, when we were sitting on his car. Photos of the city looking inwards, but from afar, and at various angles. It makes a full 360 on the city, but all on different days and at different times. Some at night, some during the day. They’re all colour though, and they’re all extraordinary.

“Oh my gosh, they’re stunning,” I smile. “You have an excellent eye for this,” I murmur, concentrating on the images.

“Thank you.” I can feel David take a step closer to me. He’s almost pressed against my back, and right now nothing else feels more perfect. Nothing so perfect; when David’s this close to me. His hand touches mine and I take a sharp breath in. His fingertips dance against the inside of my wrist, and my pulse is racing. It’s my right wrist so no one could see David touch me like this unless they were on that side of me since it’s against the wall. Thank god for the layout of this room.

He’s tracing something, or writing something against my skin. I don’t know what it is but it feels so heavenly that I close my eyes and concentrate on nothing but him. He honestly shouldn’t have such an effect on me, especially when I’m here with _someone else._

“Come with me,” he whispers beside my ear, and without hesitation – without any rational thought at all - I nod and grab a hold of the hand that is beside mine.

David weaves us through the people, all here to celebrate his art. I have a vague thought to look out for Twig because he’s here somewhere, though I can’t actually see him. And before I even look across the whole room David guides me through a door that leads into what I assume is the back room, because it’s lowly lit and there appears to not be a soul in sight. I hear him close the door behind us as I bring my attention to some discarded photos on a big workbench. They have the same feel as the ones in the main room do, so these but be the pictures he really didn’t want to showcase. Even though they are just as stunning as the ones outside.

“Don’t look at those. I’m so unhappy with them,” he mumbles and stands beside me, turning me away from them, and towards him.

“They’re great, trust me,” I tell him. He looks grateful for about three seconds before I notice the change of looks I his eyes. He grabs my waist, pulls me to him, and kisses me. It’s kinder and softer than I thought it’d be. He’s got me alone in a room so I thought he’d kiss me for all he’s worth, but it’s the opposite, and I find I like that even more.

He pushes against me and I’ve got no choice but to step back. Our lips don’t break apart, and I wrap my arms around him, hanging onto him.

“Cath,” he mumbles against my lips. I love it when he calls me that. “Stop.”

“Why?” A whimper escapes me, without my permission mind you.

“We can’t in here. Someone could come in.”

“Alright, where?” I breathe, allowing oxygen into my brain. It seems as though whenever I’m with David all oxygen escapes me which leads me into making terrible, impulsive decisions. I don’t regret these awful decisions, at least not a lot. But I wish I wasn’t so easily swayed into them when I was with this man.

We rush through another door that leads us out to a workroom, that’s partly outdoors. There are paintings and frames hanging all over the walls. It seems as though someone, or many people, do some work out here as well as showing it in the gallery. Perhaps even the person who owns this building. And as I let my mind run about who could possibly do all the paintings hung across the walls, David leads me to the outdoors area. I can see a half open gate that leads out into the side street next to the building, and how deserted it is, _thankfully._

“I’ve missed you,” he sighs beside me, pulling us together and holding me tight.

“It’s been two days, David,” I point out.

“Doesn’t matter. I haven’t had you in my arms, or in my sight.”

“And has it been terrible?” I giggle as he pushes me against a big table in a corner of the outdoor area. I drop my bag behind me.

“Awful. So bad, I never want to go through it again.”

“You’re mental.” I laugh again, and I feel his hands at my hips, like they’re magnetized to that spot. He picks me up, _literally_ picks me up and puts me on the table that is behind me. “What are you doing?” I squeal as he situates himself between my thighs.

“I don’t want to be away from you, I mean it.” He stares deep into my eyes, and I can only feel sad about it. I bring my hands up to cup his face, hoping that draws a sort of comfort to him while I respond to his comment, which I’ve dreaded to hear since the other night.

“You have to be away from me,” I tell him solemnly. “We have to be apart. You know that.”

“Stop,” he closes his eyes and sways towards me, resting his forehead against mine. “Stop talking about it. I don’t want to believe it.”

I don’t know how we can go from being so careless to being so… What? Sentimental? Sad? I hate this. I’d rather be happy, and David isn’t making it easy when he says things like this. When he talks about us _being_ an us, rather than just something easy. I know it’s more, I can feel that it is more, but I don’t want feel that way. I’m torn between two people and I don’t know how to handle that. I can’t deal with this, I’m understanding that now. I can’t possibly let myself be with two different people, I’m incapable of it. I need to have them both, but I can’t.

“I have something,” I tell him, trying to distract both of us from these terrible thoughts.

“Mmm?”

I reach behind me for my bag, sticking my hand into it and feeling along the inside seams to find a particular pocket. My fingertips feel the object I’m searching for and as I pull it from my bag, my other hand pushes David back so he’s standing straight. He stares at my hand for a while, a gleam of something suspicious on his face. And then he smiles.

“Where did you get that?” he asks suspiciously, eyebrows rising.

“A friend, perhaps,” I tell him nonchalantly. If I’m going to do this with anyone, it had better be David. I trust him.

“Do you…?” he trails off.

“No. Never have, but I thought why not?” I take a deep breath in. I’m nervous, yes, but this will be okay. Hopefully.

“Do you really want to?” David looks into my eyes. It’s like he knows I have my serious reservations about doing… _this._ I don’t know how he knows me so well.

I stand up, pressing myself against him and tell him, “I’m sure. I want to, with you.” And we grin stupidly at each other.

 

\

 

“Last bit,” David says as he breathes out some smoke. “You want it?”

“No, I’ve had enough I think.”

We’re lying up on the table outside, looking up at the sky. I can’t actually see anything except the scattered clouds in the sky, and a few leaves from the tree behind us. If I tilt my head further back, I can see the whole tree but I just tried doing that and I felt way too sick. David just laughed and then put his hand over my eyes so I couldn’t see what was making me feel ill.

“Oh, fuck!”

“What? What is it?” David asks, sounding panicked.

“Those stars are moving. Either I’m moving or those stars that suddenly appeared are moving.” How the hell did that happen?

“Catherine?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s a plane.”

“Oh,” I sigh, stupidly. “That makes a lot more sense then.”

David erupts into a fit of giggles and like a chain reaction I start to laugh too. This is a strange feeling, but it’s not exactly bad. _Different._ I’m well aware of what is happening to me but somehow it doesn’t matter and I couldn’t care less. Some part of my brain (way, way in the back) is wondering what Twig is doing, and if he’s wondered where I’ve gone off to. I also vaguely wonder if Matt has said anything about where I could possibly be, and what I could possibly be doing. Not with _who,_ just _what._ I don’t want either of them to know, or care, or find me. I’m in a happy, pleasant moment right now.

Because I’ve just noticed David has turned on his side and is kissing my neck, the tip of his tongue tracing along my throat. It’s now that I’ve discovered how good he smells. Like clean laundry, and some expensive cologne and something inherently David. It’s dark and warm, and goes straight to my head. I can’t get enough of it, of him.

We don’t say anything further, I just let David to continue kissing me. That seems to be my biggest problem when I’m with him; I don’t make him stop kissing me, and that’s where it goes all wrong.

Because then something like this happens; David rolling on top of me. He stands on the ground once again, and grabs a hold of my hips, pulling me back down the table far enough for my legs to wrap around him comfortably. He bends down again and kisses my lips. Softly, like he’s testing the waters. But there’s no need for that, because I already think we’re in the middle of a storm in the middle of the sea. The waters keep crashing around us.

I try kissing him harder. I run my tongue alone his bottom lip and as he opens his mouth I nip a little there, making him gasp and grind his hips against mine. I bring my hands up to his face and hold him, pulling him closer. I need him, to feel him and touch him. But his hands grip against my wrists and he pushes them down to either side of my head, restricting me from him.

“No, I want to touch you,” I murmur against his lips.

“Soon.”

I groan in frustration because since the first time his hips hit mine, he hasn’t stopped. I can feel him through my dress, pressing against me and I don’t know how we got like this. I don’t know how long we’ve been out here. It could be fifteen minutes or it could be an hour, I don’t know and yet I don’t care. I’m with David and that’s what I care about.

I don’t think about how this is risky and dangerous to fuck outside, literally outside of a building filled with other people. One of which is my husband. Of course I blame not being sober and of sound mind. I know what I’m doing but the part of me that stops me from doing something bad is disabled, but maybe that’s just a David thing. I do that a lot around him. That’s how we end up in this position so much. Well, not exactly this one because I’ve never had sex on a table with him before so this is new, and so fucking good. But consequences don’t exist right now. It feels like nothing exists except for myself and the man on top of me.

Which means I’m too occupied and distracted to look up at the sound I hear behind David. A sound that strangely sounds like faint footsteps, and a small creak of a gate being pushed open.


	7. Chapter 7

“It’s nice out here,” I say mindlessly, staring up at the sky once more. David is lying beside me.

“With you it is.”

I sigh loudly, letting my eyes drift shut. It’s true, as nice as it is to be out in the little alcove with David, having just had some great sex, I know the moment won’t last forever. It should end sooner rather than later. Plus, I should go back inside to my husband and act completely normal, which will be a struggle because I’m still a little high and suppressing the strange need for laughing at anything that’s just a little bit weird.

“We should go in,” I tell him and now he sighs. I think he knows this should be over sooner rather later too. Neither of us want that. I can’t even begin to think about how nice it would be to just spend a day with him. Well, anything more than a couple hours would be nice.

David goes to stand up, turning back to me with his hands out. I plant my feet on the ground and take his hands, pulling myself up and balancing myself with him there to help.

“You should fix your dress,” he laughs softly and touches the straps of my dress which are no longer on my shoulders, or even around my arms. He managed to pull down the top of my dress, and push up the bottom. I didn’t really focus on how he did that though.

As I pull my arm through one of the small straps and pull the dress back up over my breasts and small spotlight shines against the side of David’s face. And then I feel the panic rising from my stomach right up into my throat, blocking the oxygen to my brain.

“You two!” A voice yells from the door connecting the outdoor area to the gallery. “Get yourselves in a state of decency, please. We’ll be escorting you outside of the building.” This man, whoever he is, comes within my eyesight and I stop breathing. A police officer. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_

“Officer, I don’t think you need to do that. We can leave on our own,” David tries to say but the policeman doesn’t seem to be listening to him at all. He comes closer and then grabs David’s arm. He’s not resisting, which I suppose is the right thing to do. David just stares at me, and maybe that’s why he’s not moving; because he’s so deadly focused on me. The look in his eyes hurts. He’s panicking, and saying sorry, and worrying about _me._ I can’t feel my legs, or my arms, and whether that’s my absolute fear or the drugs I have no idea but I’m losing it. I stare back at David. I’m not sure what to do

Shit. We’re in so much trouble. _I’m in trouble._

 

\

 

The first policeman was followed by two more. I didn’t even have time to sort out my dress properly before one of the men took my arm and started to lead David and I through the gallery. I was sorting out my second strap as we were lead through the crowd, and from the corner of my eye I saw Twig staring in my direction. Matt was beside him, and the look on their faces destroyed any sense of impression that I was still a good person. If they saw me, fiddling with the state of my dress, then they saw David four feet in front of myself who was trying to button his shirt back up. Before we had even made it out to the street I could feel hot tears running down my cheeks.

We were told we were being arrested for public indecency and smoking an illegal substance. I should have fucking said something when I thought I heard those footsteps. Whoever that was would probably have seen close to everything for fuck’s sake. And you can smell the pot all over me probably so that would have been a tip off for that foolish mistake.

As David and I were lead into the back of a police car, I couldn’t speak. The tears were streaming desperately down my face, but I had yet to make a single noise. I don’t think I’ve ever been so silent in my entire life. But David, sweet man that he is, took my hand and looked to me.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered to me, then looked out the window to his right. I don’t know if he’s right. This really is not okay, and it won’t turn out _okay._ What the fuck was I thinking? And I gripped his hand tighter.

Since that car ride to the closest police station, David has yet to say another word to me. I was able to call my lawyer and he’s here now working something out for me. The best outlook would be that David and I would be let go on grounds that we’d never do this again and it’d be treated as a warning. I’ve never done anything illegal. At least not until now.

I’ve been thinking about calling Twig. It’s almost three in the morning by now, probably. He’ll be waiting for something. He could be sitting by the phone, waiting for it to ring and then he’ll hang up on me and never want to speak to me again. I don’t blame him. I’m _expecting_ that at this point. I’m not sure if anything I can do or say will earn his forgiveness. I’ve been a total idiot.

Thankfully I haven’t been put into a room alone, or a jail cell. God, I couldn’t stand that. I’d feel even worse than I do now. I’d feel like a proper criminal. I suppose it’s not like I’ve done anything quite so bad. People would get sent to the police for smoking some pot all the time. And the other thing… I also don’t feel completely wretched because David is beside me. Sitting in some hard, uncomfortable, plastic chair along a hallway somewhere in the back of the station. Three, maybe more, hours in this horrid building. The fluorescent lights against the stark white walls are starting to hurt my eyes, but perhaps that’s my fatigue. I’m so lost right now. Nothing is adding up. I don’t know how I got here, not really. Not for this entire situation. I probably never should have talked to David at that party. That was stupid, I know that.

David grabs a hold of my hand, then. What perfect timing, because with his warm hand around mine makes me realise _why._ Two seconds ago I was floating somewhere and not knowing how far the ground was below me, and then one touch from David and both my feet are firmly planted on the ground, and I don’t feel like I’m going anywhere.

“Catherine,” he whispers, and it’s one of the purest sounds I’ve ever heard. I lean my head on his shoulder and rest my free hand on his arm. I feel safer while close to him. I’m frightened, about what will happen. This will probably be in the news tomorrow. I am a celebrity after all. Whatever I choose to do, _or not choose to do,_ it’s suddenly the public’s “right” to know all about it. I am scared, yet I feel safe. It’s inconsistent. And I hate it.

I close my eyes, just to ease them from the blinding lights, but when I open them David is nudging my shoulder and there are two sets of feet on the ground in front of me.

“You’re both free to leave,” a stern voice says.

“If you agree nothing like this will ever happen again, of course,” adds my lawyer, Richard, also known as The Shark (at least to me). _Thank you, thank you, thank you._

“Of course. It’ll never be an issue,” David says, his hand now stroking my arm. I watch as one pair of booted feet walks away.

“Catherine.” I look up to see my lawyer, who seems just about as tired as I am. “I don’t think I’m the only one thinking this, but I don’t want this to happen again. I only barely got you out of here as it is. The police don’t like to be easy on well known faces, but seeing as this is your only problem with law enforcement, it was easier.”

“I promise to you, this won’t ever happen again,” I tell him honestly. I’ll die before I ever let this reoccur.

“Do you need me to call anyone?” He looks at me expectantly. He means Twig, of course. I don’t dare look to David. He’d be willing to take me anywhere, including my home, but I can’t let him do that. Not today.

“Yeah, that’d be great, if you could.” I don’t need to tell him who to call before he walks away.

“I should go then,” David mumbles and I turn to face him. He hasn’t slept at all, I can tell from the dark circles around his eyes. “Thank your lawyer for getting me released too.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least we could do, after I got you into this.”

“It wasn’t just you.”

“I had the joint.”

“And I practically tore off your dress,” he protests. I feel my cheeks going pink, because he is right, and I’m still so embarrassed someone _saw_ that.

“Fine. It was both our fault, so we shouldn’t speak of it any further, yeah?”

He pauses for a moment to take my hands in his. “Yeah,” he says, then kisses me on the cheek. I barely feel it, and that hurts, honestly. He stands and starts to walk his way down the hallway, but he stops after a couple metres and looks back at me. “I should wait for you to call me, or something, shouldn’t I?”

“That’s probably wise,” I sigh. “I’m not sure when that will be. Maybe a couple of days at the least.”

“I’ll wait.”

“What if I don’t call?”

David smiles. It feels like forever since I saw that, I miss it terribly and I’m looking right at him. But he doesn’t say anything. He just turns and walks down the hallway. He’s gone. I have no idea how he’s getting home. I don’t even know where he lives. And I don’t feel bad about that.

I just sit alone, in this hallway that hurts my eyes, waiting for Twig. I’m half expecting my lawyer to walk back to me and inform me he’ll be taking me home. Maybe I’ll just be sitting here until someone asks what I’m doing, and I’ll realize no one is coming for me. I deserve it; to sit here and think about the terrible thing I have done. I know it’s wrong, but I’m upset for even getting caught in the first place I think. It’s a scary realization. I’m not comfortable with it. That knowledge is making me feel like there are bugs crawling beneath my skin.

Fuck, I really am in trouble now.

 

\

 

Twig did come. After an _hour_ , which I can’t really complain about. But maybe if I do his expression will change. Because he hasn’t said anything. Not even a sigh. He’s completely blank and I don’t know how to react to this. He’s never like this. Twig always has some sort of emotion running through him, but not now. It’s frightening. I’m scared about what he’ll do when he finally does crack. Will he yell? Will he throw things? Will he just stay abnormally quiet? I can’t fucking take it, but I’m not ready to concede to be the one who speaks first. ‘ _You’re stubborn that way.’_ I can hear Twig in my head, and it kills me.

It’s really only about twenty minutes back home from the station I was being held at, and I’m sure Twig has sped a little because we’re home in about fifteen minutes. He gets out of the car, silent, and waits until I’ve shut my door to lock the car, and even then he doesn’t look at me. I shamefully follow him to the front door. Why isn’t he saying anything? I’m worried now. He’s going to do something crazy, probably. And yes, I really, truly am sorry for cheating on him. I didn’t do it to hurt him, of course. There’s just some black part of my soul who is attracted to David in so many ways, and that dark side has come out for what is probably the first time in my life.

Twig actually holds the front door open for me. That’s something, I guess… I _hope._ I can’t actually let him walk any further without saying _anything_. This is fucking ridiculous. If he’s mad he should just say so!

I stop a few metres into the hallway and I turn back around to look at him. He’s moving, slowly, eyes to the ground. He must spot my feet at a standstill though because he stops, eyes glued to the ground. Now. Now is the time to get it out of him. I’m just so glad Erin is staying over at someone’s right now.

I take a deep breath, to steady my nerves. “Say something,” I whisper so quietly I’m not sure he’s heard me.

But then he looks up and stares into my eyes. _Pure hurt, and rage._ I want to drop to my knees and _beg_ for forgiveness.

“Say something?” he throws back at me, disdain casing his voice. “You want me to say something?”

I nod slightly. There’s something dark in his eyes. I’ve never seen it before. I didn’t think it’d be this terrifying.

“Okay, I’ll say something.” He takes a step towards me, looks dead straight into my eyes and articulates very clearly, “End it.” And then he brushes past me, the small breeze caused by his body passing me almost knocking me over to the ground. It feels so heavy and forceful, like a storm.

Of course he wants it to end. And of course I have to let it. No – _make it._ I can’t be with David, clearly. I love my family. I do, I really do. Why the fuck did I have to risk it like this? I don’t want to lose Twig, I know that. He’s everything I’ve ever known. Or it feels that way.

I can hear Twig’s footsteps on the stairs and I blurt, “It’s over.” The footsteps don’t pause; they just fade away. I’ll do anything to keep him. David is just a fling. Something stupid. Something that my unexplored dark side decided to seek. I’m not risking my life over him.

I can feel tears ready to fall down my face and I’m about to give in to it because I’m just so tired, but I hear my phone vibrate inside my handbag. I fish it out and look at the screen.

I hate myself.

_I couldn’t wait for your call._

I’ve made such a fucking mess of everything. Yet, after tonight, and after the horrendous looks I’ve just gotten from my husband, after telling him it’s over, I find myself standing here in my hallway feeling like ghost and responding to the man that’s created these myriad of problems for me.

_I’m glad you couldn’t wait._


End file.
